Facing the facts
Before High school I didn’t know what I was although I had always known that I was different to the other kids. As I would walk across the primary school playground I would occasionally see someone staring at me only removing their gaze when I looked at them with a confused yet inquisitive face. They would look the other way and then they would whisper something unintelligible to the person standing beside them. That person would then take what they thought was a sneaky glance at me and then nod. It never really occurred to me that it was me that they would whisper those brutal truths about. Only now when I look back on it do I realise that this was the case.
When I entered the PLC community I felt welcomed although I would still receive those occasional glances. It was like they knew something I didn’t. This was something that I decided I wanted to find out no matter what the cost.
I approached one of my new friends here at PLC and I asked her what everyone looked at and whispered about. I wondered whether the sideways glances were because of a rumour about me or whether everyone in the world had come to a consecutive decision that I was not someone to be liked. She looked uncomfortable and I feared for the worst. What was she going to say?
“Well...” She began. I urged her to continue. “You... are...”
“You are very pale.” She said quickly so that she could get it over with.
Pale. This was the cause of all the whispering. Strangely I felt relieved having feared far worse. Being the youngest of a long line of whitey whites had prepared me for this apparent widespread perception. I assured my friend that she had not offended me. She seemed relieved. But this realisation, the realisation that I was seen as whiter than white really began to tug at my mind.
It reminded me of all of those times I spent sitting in the beach tent while all the other kids got to play, screeching up and down the beach trying to compete with the seagulls. It reminded me of how, even when I had so carefully put layers and layers of sunscreen all over my body, my skin would still sizzle and be as red and tender as a tomato, frying in a pan.
But now I realise that reminiscing on these past events will not change my current circumstances and as the god of melanin has not been kind to me I must draw strength from the wise words of martin Luther King Jr:
I have a dream that one day I will live in a society where people will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character.
(But of course, there is always fake tan!)
